Good Neighbors(22)

No, he didn’t want to run away. He just wanted a decent commission, or a pat on the back from his regional sales director, who didn’t seem to notice that he’d never called in sick or missed a meeting. He wanted his music agent at Gersh to get back to him about the new demo he’d sent. Mostly, he wanted somebody to notice how hard all this had been, and that he’d done it, nonetheless.

None of these things would happen for Arlo Wilde. Not today, at least. Today, the children of Maple Street were skittering over the surface of something dangerous. One of them was about to fall in.





Sterling Park


A rational person would have stayed home. Hidden in her room until Monday, when her mom drove her to coding camp or Girl Empowerment Engineering Club or whatever. A rational kid would have waited until the period thing blew over.

It became clear to Julia Wilde right then, that her former best friend forever Shelly Schroeder wasn’t rational.

Even from an acre out, Julia could see that Shelly’s intense line of vision was fixed on just one target. She ran at top speed, dirt and sand oil kicking up all around. She tripped once, but even then, her eyes stayed on Julia.

“We should run,” Charlie said.

They didn’t run. Shelly halved the distance. Quartered it. She looked wrong.

“What happened to her?” Dave asked.

Shelly was really close now, and they could see what she’d done. Her hair was gone. It looked like she’d hacked off each braid near the scalp, because the black that remained had unwound in thick, uneven tufts.

“Whoa,” Julia said.

Without slowing down, Shelly burst between Julia and Larry, who were holding hands. Then she was standing on the giant wood slab. Right in the center, her feet over the knothole.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Dave Harrison shouted.

She didn’t look at him, only at Julia. Her face was a mask of scrunched fury. It was scary, like the real Shelly, the Shelly who’d been her friend, didn’t live inside her anymore. “Bck! Bck! Bck!” she hollered, wrists tucked under her armpits so that her elbows appeared like the tips of hollow wings. “You came all the way out and you didn’t even walk the plank. You’re all chicken—I knew it!”

“Get off,” Charlie said. “It’ll fall.”

Still glaring at Julia, Shelly grinned through clenched teeth. Talked through those clenched teeth, too. “I’m the bravest.”

“Fuck this,” Dave Harrison said. He leaped for the compact excavator’s hook and caught it with both hands. He swung, ramming Shelly right in the boobs with the soles of his flip-flops, then dropping almost clear to the other side. But he still landed on wood, and that wood made a disquieting groan.

“Go home, Shelly,” he announced as he walked to safety.

Shelly stayed on the board, legs akimbo. She’d changed into a clean, pink skort so there wasn’t any blood to see. Looking only at Julia, like everyone else was furniture, she announced, “You and me. We fight right here. To the death.”

“You’re crazy,” Julia said.

“Bck-bck-bck!” Shelly rage-shrieked.

“What is this, first grade?” Julia asked.

Julia pressed her toes up against the edge. Warm wood vibrated through the soles of her flip-flops, like a dryer set to low. It really did feel like something was down there. Something alive.

“This is my Rat Pack. Take the aspy and go back to Brooklyn. Lock him in a loony bin where he belongs.”

Julia didn’t look to see Larry’s reaction. She knew he’d be grabbing for himself, maybe walking in a circle. He didn’t cry when people teased him. It happened too often. At school, on the bus, at the grocery store—there weren’t enough tears. Instead, he retreated. His eyes went dim and faraway, and they stayed faraway even after the teasing was done. Every time that happened, she felt like she’d lost a piece of him that she’d never get back. She’d once explained this to Shelly, that it was her job to keep him whole and alive, only she didn’t know how. She was so afraid of failing. The one thing that made her special in her family was protecting him.

“I heard for a fact that the school shrink diagnosed him mentally retarded,” Shelly said. “Imbecile level, which is better than idiot but worse than moron.”

Julia charged the slab. Crrrrck! The wood creaked under their combined weight and she didn’t care right then if she fell. All she wanted to do was slap that dirty, toothy grin off Shelly’s mouth. “Don’t you dare talk shit about my brother. I’ll fight you anytime.”

“You dumbasses need to get off. It’s gonna break,” Dave called from the edge.

Hearing that, Shelly bent low, then sprang, tucking her legs like the slab was a trampoline. As soon as she landed, the knothole split an inch on either side:

Crrrck!

“Stop!” Dave shouted, angry as spit. “Seriously, Shelly. You wanna die, go ahead. Don’t take Julia with you.”

By now Ella, Sam, the Markles, and Lainee had arrived. They’d surrounded the sinkhole on every side.

“You shouldn’t do that, Shelly!” Ella called. “Mom says—”

Shelly started laughing, only no sound came out. Her whole body convulsed. Without all that hair, there wasn’t anything to soften her features. Her big eyes looked like they’d receded into their sockets; her cheekbones and jaw jutted, sharp and too defined. She was the thirty-year-old version of herself that had lived a hard, bitter life. She jumped again, high and hard.